Eight days before the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. was killed in Memphis, the slain civil rights leader came to Newark and spoke at several churches and at South Side High School, which is now Malcolm X Shabazz. Those who saw him on March 27, 1968, offer their recollections on the 50th anniversary of his death.
Winthrop McGriff had no idea he was talking to Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. during a telephone conversation in December 1967.
McGriff, now 67 and living in Linden, was just 17 years old and had just been elected senior class president at Newark's South Side High School. He wanted to bring a dynamic speaker to the school, so the student body could hear an inspiring message before they graduated in June 1968, the following year.
He didn't know what to do until his grandfather, the late Rev. William McGriff, of Canaan Baptist Church in Newark, gave him a piece of paper with a phone number.
"He said call that number and ask for Mr. King,'' McGriff recalls, still not realizing it belonged to the slain civil rights leader.
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McGriff said King answered the call as if he was a staff worker at the Southern Christian Leadership Conference. After a few moments, when King finally revealed his identity, "I dropped the phone,'' McGriff said. "I said, 'Oh, Lord.' "
Once he gathered himself, McGriff said King honored his request after he learned that the elder McGriff was his grandfather. Three months later, King was in Newark standing in front of a packed high school auditorium on March 27, 1968. It would be his last visit to the city.
Eight days later, King was shot and killed on the balcony of the Lorraine Motel in Memphis, Tenn.
As we approach 50 years since his death on Wednesday, the visit still resonates as a life-changing moment for those who saw him at the school and other venues that day, including the Robert Treat Hotel, New Jersey Bell, United Community Corp. and several churches.
At South Side, McGriff introduced King to the student body, but remembers how, with a poetic delivery, he stressed to his classmates the importance of an education.
"Don't burn baby burn, so you can learn baby learn,'' said McGriff, who sat on stage behind King.
"I took those words to mean that you don't let anybody tell you that you can't,'' McGriff said.
The late Rep. Donald Payne Sr. (D-10th Dist.) was also in the audience that day. Sitting next to him in the front row was his friend, Harvey Geller, now 73, of Rye, N.Y. Payne invited Geller, an employee at Prudential at the time, and both men are forever captured in a memorable picture that hangs on his office wall.
"It was a life-altering experience. I never understood the power of pure oratory until that day,'' said Geller, comparing King to Biblical prophets, who "pointed out things in society that were wrong and they told people what they didn't want to hear.''
At the time of King's visit, Newark was emerging from the 1967 riots, and the first National Conference on Black Power had been held. King was advocating economic equality and objected to America's involvement in the Vietnam War, a position that made him unpopular as he prepared for the Poor's People Campaign. That grass roots movement, which happened after he died, called for a "radical redistribution of economic and political power" for America's poor people after the Kerner Commission called for federal and state governments to create new jobs and invest billions in housing programs to combat residential segregation.
"But 50 years after Dr. King's visit to Newark, we have made far too little progress as a nation,'' said Ryan Haygood, president and chief executive officer of the New Jersey Institute for Social Justice.
Haygood said blacks still have double the unemployment rate of whites, and the racial wealth gap has nearly tripled. Home ownership, he said, has declined for blacks, and incarceration rates have tripled.
"If there is a lesson for progressive people to learn from the past 50 years and today, it is this: People who care about racial and social justice cannot afford to be timid.''
King spoke with this clarity as the moral voice of authority. After 20 minutes at South Side, he was off to several other places in the city. He met with a family that was on public assistance, visited a nursery school and talked privately with poet-activist Amiri Baraka. At some point, King headed to Orange and Jersey City before returning to Newark, where he spoke at Mount Calvary Baptist Church and then a final stop at Abyssinian Baptist Church.
William Payne, a former assemblyman and brother of the late congressman, said he was the last person to see King leave New Jersey that day. King, who Payne had known since 1956, just finished delivering remarks at Abyssinian, where he denounced the war.
Payne said King was tired afterward, but he had one more engagement - a fundraiser in New York with Harry Belafonte. King asked Payne to go, but he was unable to attend, and told his friend that he'd see him next time.
Payne waved goodbye as the car carrying King pulled away. And King, looking out of the rear window, waved, as well.
"It was the last time I would see him alive. I can see it like it was yesterday,'' said Payne.
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The men first met in 1956 at the NAACP Convention in San Francisco. Payne, chairman of the organization's youth work committee, was the moderator of a plenary session in which he introduced King and A. Philip Randolph, a civil rights leader, who organized and led the Brotherhood of Sleeping Car Porters, the first predominantly African-American labor union.
Payne said King was just as riveting then as he was at the Abyssinian church in Newark. With total recall, Payne, now 85, rattled off a quote from King that captured his message.
"He said discrimination and segregation are diametrically opposed to all of the principles of democracy, and all of the dialectics of the logicians cannot make them lie down together.''
Payne, who was then 24 year old, has a picture from that day. Medgar Evers, another civil rights leader that Payne knew, is in the photo, which could easily be a page from a history book.
It hangs on the wall in his office at the Essex County Hall of Records, where he is deputy chief of staff for Essex County Executive Joseph DiVincenzo.
It's a reminder for Payne as to why he remains active in social justice demonstrations, calling on people to get involved politically and not be afraid to stand up.
"I knew the people who died for us,'' Payne said.
King. Evers. And many more.
"Who am I not to be involved.''
Barry Carter: (973) 836-4925 or bcarter@starledger.com or
nj.com/carter or follow him on Twitter @BarryCarterSL